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1921 


I,  Melvina  Aclelc  Lott,  was  born  in  Canada,  but 
have  lived  nearly  all  my  life  in  Los  Angeles, 
California. 

I  wrote  the  verses  of  this  booklet  as  special 
occasions  dictated  and  am  happy  to  dedicate  them 
to  my  daughter  Theadora  Adele  Keller. 

The  object  of  printing  this  booklet  is  that  it  be  sold 
and  all  money  derived  therefrom  used  for  charity. 


1297 


Friendship 

There  are  so  called  friends  who  only  pretend; 
While  on  others  you  may  always  depend. 
Some  will  flatter  to  accomplish  some  gain, 
The  ones  you  can  trust,  are  ones  to  remain. 

Friends  you  can  count  in  a  different  grade, 
Are  those  proved  true,  and  those  easily  made. 
And  friends  that  you  like  in  a  passing  way, 
Are  not  like  the  ones  that  you're  sure  will  stay. 

Friendship  that  is  sought  for  some  selfish  end, 
Is  that  on  which  you  can  never  depend. 
True  friends  can't  be  compared  with  our  shadows, 
To  follow  us  only  when  the  sun  glows. 

Friendship  is  one  of  the  dearest  treasures; 
From  which  we  derive  our  greatest  pleasures. 
The  rich  can  not  monopolize  that  game, 
The  poor  can  have  and  enjoy  it  the  same. 

Loss  of  true  friends,  like  the  loss  of  an  eye. 

Can  not  be  replaced,  however  you  try. 

So  hold  them,  and  fail  not  to  tell  them  too — 

What  their  love,  and  their  friendship  means  to  you. 

It  hurts  to  be  injured  in  any  way, 

Either  mentally  or  physically; 

But  what  can  cause  the  most  anguish  and  pain, 

Is  losing  a  friend  you  cannot  regain. 

If  you're  a  friend  worth  loving  let  him  know, 
Before  his  brow  is  tinged  with  sunset  glow. 
Don't  wait  till  he  dies  some  nice  things  to  say; 
He'd  like  to  hear  them,  so  say  them  to-day. 


My  Granma 

I'm  jest  a  little  boy,  what  has  red  hair, 
An  so  many  freckles,  all  brown  they  be. 
But  my  granma  says  I'm  buteful  so  there — 
Won't  cry  any  more  when  boys  laff  at  me. 

My  granma's  hair  is  so  soft  an  so  white; 
An  she  has  big  brown  eyes  that  look  at  me. 
An  smile  an  winks  at  me,  when  I  do  right; 
But  looks  sorry,  when  I'm  bad  as  can  be. 

My  granma's  seventy-six,  she's  not  old; 
She  muses  me,  an  tells  me  stories  too, 
All  'bout  boys  growing  strong  an  great  an  bold 
An  'bout  some  bear  stories  that's  reelly  true. 

One  time  when  I  was  sliding  down  some  hay — 
My  granma  said  she  did  that  when  a  girl. 
I  asked  her  if  she'd  slide,  with  me  that  day? 
She  did  like  anything,  all  in  a  whirl. 

Onc't  I  cut  my  toe,  it  hurt  like  everything; 
Ma  said;  "Go  way  I'm  busy  making  pie." 
But  granma  got  a  clean  white  rag  and  string — 
So's  to  do  my  toe  up,  she  said  she'd  try. 

One  time  I  hollered,  got  scared  in  the  night, 
Ma  said,  "I  told  you  not  to  eat  the  cake — 
That  you'd  have  a  bad  dream,  and  get  a  fright- 
Go  back  to  sleep,  an  don't  keep  me  awake." 


Soon's  ma  went  away,  then  granma  did  come 
Said  she  was  sorry  I  had  stomach  ache. 
Brought  in  castoria  and  gave  me  some; 
An  stayed  with  me  all  time  I  was  awake. 

Wonder  if  all  boys  have  any  granma? 
Prap's  all  of  'em  aint  jest  like  mine  you  see. 
An  prap's  some  of  *em  have  jest  a  granpa; 
But  mine's  jest  the  nicest  one  that  can  be. 


My  Soul 

I  sometimes  feel  such  terrible  hate, 
Could  almost  life,  in  my  anger  take; 
When  I  can't  find  words  that  will  express — 
The  rage,  the  hatred,  the  mad  distress. 
But  why  dash  myself  into  the  sheol? 
And  thus  part  company  with  my  Soul? 

Large  sums  of  money  could  sometimes  make, 
While  gross  advantage  of  others  take; 
Could  fill  my  purse  in  dishonest  ways, 
And  live  in  luxury  all  my  days. 
Gaining  wealth,  while  from  others  I  stole, 
But  losing  company  with  my  Soul. 


Oft'  times  my  body  is  racked  with  pain, 
When  relief  from  any  source  seems  vain; 
And  think  of  all  cases,  mine  the  worse, 
Often  feel  sorely  tempted  to  curse. 
Surely  my  life  is  not  like  a  mole — 
I  should  keep  company  with  my  Soul. 

Am  filled  with  conceit  and  foolish  pride, 
Suffering  poverty  I  deride; 
Loving  but  self  with  a  stony  heart, 
With  care  of  others  taking  no  part. 
Living  the  life  of  an  ass's  foal, 
While  parting  company  with  my  Soul. 

I  love  in  a  way  I  can  not  tell, 
The  kind  of  love  that  drives  one  to  hell; 
Love  that  is  passionate,  bold  and  strong, 
B'ut  makes  one  a  sinner  loving  wrong. 
Should  I  then  let  conscience  pay  the  toll? 
And  all  eternity  lose  my  Soul? 

Life  is  too  short  to  live  it  all  wrong, 
When  with  God's  grace  I  could  be  strong; 
His  love  can  make  me  so  tender,  so  true; 
Loving  and  patient  in  all  I  do. 
There's  but  one  way  to  win  the  goal — 
By  keeping  company  with  my  Soul. 


If  life  were  all  sunshine  it  would  be  monotonous. 


What 

What  can  I  say  that  has  not  been  said? 

Of  the  pleasant  things  found  in  life? 
What  can  I  tell  that  has  not  been  told? 

Of  all  the  worlds'  sadness  and  strife? 

What  can  I  see  no  other  has  seen? 
The  beautiful  every  where  found — 

I  can  see  with  just  my  own  view  point- 
All  the  bad  and  the  good  around. 

What  can  I  hear  not  heard  by  others? 

There  is  music  in  everything. 
It's  just  within  self,  in  mind  and  will 

That  gives  all  a  musical  ring. 

What  can  I  be  no  other  has  been? 

Nothing  but  my  only  self,  me. 
For  there  were  never  two  just  alike; 

So  I  can  just  one  pattern  be. 

What  can  I  do  that  has  not  been  done? 

In  this  world  of  pleasure  and  strife? 
It  is  only  character  that  counts — 

In  the  building  to  make  a  life. 

What  can  I  love  any  more  than  you? 

Only  that  which  belongs  to  me — 
As  personal  gifts  from  God  I  love; 

And  that  is  just  as  it  should  be. 

What  can  I  take  with  me  when  I  go? 

Not  an  item  more  than  can  you. 
We  bring  nothing  in,  take  nothing  out, 

'Tis  something  we  can  not  undo. 


What  are  the  pleasures  to  be  enjoyed — 
By  the  taste,  touch,  hearing  or  sight — 

Not  enjoyed  by  the  first  here  on  earth? 
The  answer  is  none  and  'tis  right. 

When  I  pass  on  and  my  story  told, 
I'll  be  worth  just  this,  hear  me  say! 

Not  one  cent  less,  or  a  penny  more — 
Than  what  I  have  given  away. 

When  I  shall  go  to  the  Great  Beyond — 
And  the  song  of  my  life  is  sung — 

I'll  be  remembered  by  just  one  thing; 
And  that  will  be,  what  I  have  done. 


Composed  for  "Dollar  Social"— 1902 

Remembering  the  saying  that  "Money  breeds  money," 
Invested  my  dollar  in  a  way  that's  funny, 
Took  ten  dimes  and  placed  them  in  a  soft  cosy  nest; 
And  put  them  on  a  mantle  for  ten  days  to  rest. 

Expecting  to  find  in  that  time  money  plenty, 
Believe  I  was  surprised  to  find  nickels  twenty. 
Thinking  ten  days  more  time  would  bring  dollars  many, 
I  was  vexed  to  find  them  all  turned  to  one  penny. 

Thought  to  try  but  once  more  with  this  penny  of  rust, 
So  on  it  I  sprinkled  a  spoonful  of  gold  dust. 
Then  it  changed  to  this  fiver,  to  bring  up  the  rear, 
And  for  my  good  luck,  I  know  you  ladies  will  cheer. 


Don'ts 

Don't  talk  in  a  circle — 

You  may  as  well  girgle, 

You'll  not  succeed  in  getting  anywhere. 

Lacking  point  to  your  say — 

You  can  talk  for  a  day, 

And  be  like  a  big  bag  filled  with  air. 

Don't  start  out  "a  shopping" — 

And  in  all  stores  stopping, 

Just  to  show  that  you  understand  that  word. 

Not  purchasing  but  say — 

You'll  call  again  next  day, 

Annoying  clerks  in  ways  that  are  absurd. 

Don't  grumble  through  your  life — 

As  though  in  constant  strife, 

Fretting  and  finding  fault  with  every  thing. 

If  you'll  smile  every  day — 

You'll  live  longer  that  way, 

Make  others  happier  to  hear  you  sing. 

Don't  use  slang  in  your  speech — 

Such  as:  "that  is  a  screech," 

And,  that  "kid"  forever  "getting  my  goat." 

"Now  it's  sure  up  to  you" — 

"You'll  get  yours  if  you  do," 

And,  "Gee!   But  she's  some  jazzy  petticoat.' 


Don't  live  like  an  upstart — 

And  pretend  to  be  smart; 

For  if  you  are  bright,  'twill  surely  be  known. 

To  act  part  of  a  snob — 

Is  much  like  the  corn  cob, 

The  better  part  is  not  there  to  be  shown. 

Don't  you  worry  and  fret — 

Getting  yourself  upset, 

About  troubles  you  never  can  prevent. 

Worry  never  did  pay — 

Yesterday  or  to-day, 

All  your  time  is  wasted  in  that  way  spent. 

Banquet,  1913 

Guest  of   Honor  -        -        Dr.   Charles  Edward   Locke 

Time        -  September    Ninth,   Seven   O'clock 

Music        -  Harp,  Miss  Myrtle  F.  Ouellet 

Occasion        -  Celebrate  Our  Guests'    Birthday 

Place        -  -                              Alexandria   Hotel 

Remarks        -        -  Our  Guests'  Age  We  Need  Not  Tell 

Guests        -  There  Are  Forty  in  Number 

Menu        -  Naught    to    Disturb    Our    Slumber 


TOASTMASTER,   DR.   H.  W.   BRODBECK 

Locks Mrs.    Rose   A.    Seymour 

Anniversaries        -  Mr.  W.  F.  Cronemiller 

September Mrs.   T.   H.  Oxnam 

Don't  Worry        -       -       -        -        -        Mrs.  J.  F.  Poole 

Friends Mrs.  S.  P.  Mulford 

Why  Is  a  Banquet?        -        -        -     Mr.  C.  A.  Parmelee 

Our  Guest Mrs.  Melvina  A.  Lott 

Response     -  Dr.    Charles    Edward    Locke 

Mehina  A  dele  Lott,  Hostess. 


Our  Guest 

Composed  for  banquet  1913,  to 
Dr.  Charles  Edward  Locke 

September  the  ninth  eighteen  hundred  and — 

Our  honored  guest  was  born. 
'Twas  in  the  famous  city  of  Pittsburgh, 

On  a  Wednesday,  in  the  morn. 

Dr.  Locke  by  happy  coincidence, 
Luck,  providence,  chance  or  fate, 

Was  admitted  to  this  great  republic, 
On  the  same  day  as  our  state. 

Dr.  Locke  does  not  like  to  count  birthdays, 

But  long  as  I  can  shall  see — 
That  every  twelve  months  he'll  surely  add, 

A  whole  year's  time  as  do  we. 

Had  February  twenty-ninth  been  the  day — 
He  would  then  have  had  an  excuse — 

To  cut  off  a  good  slice  of  his  numbers — 
But  with  his  date  it's  no  use. 

He  is  very  happy  seeing  you  all — 

Around  this  table  to-night; 
For  that  joy  smile  that  always  stays  with  him, 

Is  now  exceedingly  bright. 

I  am  sure  that  his  smile  is  contagious; 

Just  now  you  all  looked  his  way, 
And  your  expression  is  so  much  better, 

I  hope  it  is  on  to  stay. 

A  very  frequent  question  is  what  makes — 

You  all  love  your  pastor  so? 
Am  very  sure  that  I  know  the  answer — 

Because  he  loves  us  you  know. 


I  do  not  always  know  how  to  express — 

Just  what  I  would  like  to  say. 
You  may  all  use  your  talent  for  guessing, 

What  I  would  say  of  this  day. 

Hope  that  we  all  may  be  near  him  next  year, 

To  wish  him  the  very  best, 
As  I'm  sure  you  all  join  me  now  hoping— 

He  with  all  favors  be  blest. 

We  wish  earth's  choicest  gifts  to  be  his — 

Want  his  health  the  very  best. 
And  forty  years  more  of  his  labor  here; 

Then  heaven's  home  for  the  rest. 


To  Bishop  Locke 

Composed  for  Farewell  Reception  to  Bishop  Locke,  1920. 

On  July  Fourth  at  the  great  reception, 

No  female  had  a  chance  to  say 
That  we  hold  you  in  fondest  affection, 

And  sorry  you  are  going  away. 

One  horrid  thing  a  minister  did  say, 

That  Bishop  Locke  did  spill  the  beans. 

He  surely  could  have  found  another  way, 
To  make  a  rhyme  for  Philippines. 

A  female  would  not  have  used  such  a  phrase, 

Before  a  large  congregation; 
But  only  words  of  affection  and  praise, 

Expressing  her  great  appreciation. 


When  we  are  about  to  build  a  new  church, 

For  which  you  cherished  a  notion, 
You  have  climbed  and  reached  a  very  high  perch, 

To  land  you  across  the  ocean. 

We're  very  sorry  to  lose  our  Captain, 
When  accustomed  to  the  Locke  step, 

For  our  equilibrium  to  maintain, 
And  not  make  a  too  sudden  stop. 

After  a  twelve  year  inoculation, 

We  are  all  immune  from  Locke-jaw, 

For  twenty-seven  hundred  congregation, 
'Tis  an  exception  to  the  law. 

As  Helms  do  steer  all  ships  aright, 

We'll  be  guided  as  time  goes  by; 
Look  in  the  future  as  by  second  sight, 

With  eyes  ever  smiling  and  dry. 

Because  our  pastor  is  going  away, 

Two  thoughts  I  am  pleased  to  relate; 

One  is,  some  day  he  will  come  back  to  stay; 
Second,  we're  his  last  pastorate. 

We're  proud  of  the  honor  bestowed  on  you, 
Which  makes  our  parting  consoling; 

It  was  a  debt  that  was  long  overdue; 
So  that  will  ease  our  condoling. 

Sincerest  love  to  you,  Bishop  Locke, 

Wishing  you  a  very  long  life; 
From  the  female  half  of  your  M.  E.  flock, 

Wishing  the  same  for  your  dear  wife. 


Observations 

No  matter  how  clever,  witty  or  bright — 

Is  the  thing  that  you  wrote 

Don't  expect  your  kin-folk 
To  give  you  credit  'twas  written  just  right. 

Might  be  as  good  cook  as  ever  was  known, 

Be  sure  most  of  the  praise — 

Comes  from  strangers  always; 
Instead  of  from  those  with  whom  you  have  grown. 

However  noble  a  deed  you  may  do. 

Those  at  home  find  the  flaws, 

And  give  you  the  ha  ha's — 
'Tis  credit  by  strangers  that's  given  you. 

Best  should  be  said  of  whatever  you  do — 

Character,  Ability, 

Disposition,   Beauty. 
By  the  ones  nearest,  and  dearest  to  you. 

Since  the  time  of  Adam  so  it  is  said, 

If  you've  lived  as  you  should — 

Being  patient  and  good; 
Credit  is  given  just  after  you're  dead. 

Some  flattery  though  one  knows  'tis  not  true; 

Is  better  than  a  growl — 

Or  a  cross  ugly  scowl; 
And  helps  one  oft  times  from  getting  too  blue. 


Little  praise  now  and  then  helps  a  whole  lot- 
Leaving  out  all  the  blame 
Will  not  lessen  your  fame; 

And  it  helps  the  sorrows  of  life  to  blot. 

If  at  one  you  wish  to  throw  a  bouquet, 
To  some  one  some  cheer  bring — 
Saying  some  kindly  thing, 

Don't  wait  till  that  body  has  passed  away. 


My  Lover 

Life  would  not  be  worth  the  living, 

Could  I  not  see  you  my  Dear. 
To  you  all  my  thoughts  are  going, 

Ever  wishing  you  were  near. 
Life's  too  short  to  lose  all  loving, 

This  world  would  be  very  queer 
If  'twere  all  work  and  all  striving, 

All  of  worry  and  of  fear. 
For  the  heart  is  ever  hoping, 

There  is  one  to  shed  a  tear, 
When  we're  severed  by  a  parting, 

E'n  the  time  be  not  a  year. 
Day  by  day  I'm  ever  longing, 

For  a  smile  from  you  my  Dear. 


Do  all   things  creditably  without  expectation   of  praise. 


Missionary  "Tea" 

Read  in  1894,  when  E.  J.  In  wood  was  pastor. 

The  First  M.  E.  Church  on  Cajon  St.  stands, 

It  calls  as  we  pass;  our  attention  demands; 

There's  no  church  in  Redlands  of  which  we're  so  proud, 

Though  it  cannot  boast  of  spires  reaching  a  cloud. 

They  say  this  good  church  on  its  record  can  boast 
Of  members  four  hundred,  a  wonderful  host: 
Only  few  of  them  go  to  see  and  be  seen 
And  to  worship  the  Lord  a  little  between. 

For  most  of  the  brothers  and  sisters  too 
Are  very  large  hearted,  generous  and  true. 
In  helping  and  giving  they  do  very  well; 
But  "Tis  blessed  to  give"  we  often  hear  tell. 

If  we  all  take  hold  with  our  hearts  filled  with  love, 
Great  work  we  may  do  for  our  Father  above; 
We  can  give  pleasant  words  if  our  money  gives  out, 
And  give  silent  prayers  if  too  timid  to  shout. 

We  have  the  best  pastor  conference  affords. 
He  is  noble,  good,  broad  in  deeds  and  in  words; 
He  preaches  the  truth  with  no  uncertain  sound, 
And  ever  with  right  and  with  duty  is  found. 

I  did  not  intend  a  long  story  to  make, 
So  will  take  up  my  subject  for  our  "Missions"  sake; 
We  have  "Foreign  Missions"  and  "Home  Missions"  dear 
So  the  people  get  mixed  and  do  not  see  clear. 

They  think  one's  the  other,  when  all's  said  and  done, 
One  is  the  other,  and  the  other's  the  one. 
We   wish   a   large   number   some   more   time   could   spend, 
And  our  "Home  Missionary"  meetings  attend. 


For  our  meetings  are  small  we  number  so  few, 
We  accomplish  so  little  with  so  much  to  do; 
The  church  must  wake  up  and  the  sisters  come  out, 
And  help  in  this  work  we  are  talking  about. 

Let's  not  be  discouraged  or  faint  by  the  way, 
Remembering  Christ's  promise  "I'm  with  you  today;" 
He's  our  strength  and  refuge  and  whate'er  we  do, 
Let  us  wait  on  the  Lord  our  strength  to  renew. 

"Well!  but  what  can  I  do"  I  hear  some  one  say, 
Keep  thinking  and  trying  you'll  soon  find  the  way; 
A  small  sum  of  money,  a  few  words  of  prayer 
Has,  and  will  do  more  good  than  we're  aware. 

Sister  Bush  helping  to  encourage  the  few, 
Has  come  to  the  rescue  in  a  way  that's  new; 
By  asking  the  people,  old,  young,  great  and  small, 
To  enter  her  parlors  we've  answered  her  call. 

Sister  Bush  told  us  to  come  make  her  a  call — 

In  a  body,  so  we  have  come  one  and  all; 

She  said  she  would  give  us — she  did  not  say  bread — 

A  good  cup  of  tea,  I  think  that's  what  she  said. 

Sisters!  If  this  "Mission  Tea"  proves  a  success, 
And  cheers  up  our  spirits  as  'twill  more  or  less; 
I  make  you  a  motion  that  soon  we  invest; 
Not  in  a  cup  of  tea  but  a  good  sized  chest. 

And    have    teas    once    a    month,    and    try    to    wake   up — 
The  sleeping  sisters  with  the  festive  tea  cup; 
We'll  stir  up  interest  with  sugar  and  cream, 
But  will  let  it  evaporate  with  little  steam. 


Birthday  Greeting  to  O.  P.  Conaway 

Fifty  years  ago  to-day  it  is  said, 

In  Iowa  was  bom  a  little  towhead. 

While  so  young  as  to  use  a  trundle  bed 

On  a  birthday  his  mother  to  him  said 

"What  most  do  you  wish  for  my  little  Ted?" 

He  answered  "  'lasses  to  put  on  my  bread.'* 

When  it  was  time  to  eat  he  always  led, 

But  made  a  fuss  when  told  to  go  to  bed. 

He  was  not  like  other  boys  to  raise  "ned"; 

Sometimes  he  was  naughty  then  all  would  dread, 

To  hear  him  stamp  and  in  heavy  boots  tread. 

As  he  grew,  and  showed  that  he  was  well  bred, 

And  liking  lasses  he  chose  one  to  wed. 

She  is  a  good  cook,  and  can  make  his  bread, 

Not  the  doughy  kind,  or  heavy  like  lead 

But  the  good  kind,  on  which  'lasses  to  spread. 

Now  he's  old,  with  little  hair  on  his  head. 

But  he  is  good  natured,  and  looks  well  fed. 

And  is  a  councilman  too,  I  have  read. 

Hope  he'll  live  long,  for  he'll  be  long  time  dead. 

I  hear  he  still  eats  when  not  sick  abed; 

And  likes  all  colors  but  one  and  that's  red. 

He  never  had  raven  locks  on  his  head, 

'Twas  that  much  less  to  rave  over,  he  said. 

Not  having  molasses  I  brought  instead, 

Some  maple  syrup  to  put  on  his  bread. 

If  it  proves  too  thin  and  it  will  not  spread 

And  runs  all  over  the  side  of  his  bread, 

His  wife  can  make  candy  of  it  instead; 

Save  it  for  Christmas,  be  that  much  ahead. 

I  am  happy  since  all  is  done  and  said 


He  retains  his  taste  for  'lasses  and  bread, 

For  when  that  taste  is  gone,  you  may  well  dread, 

And  know  the  time  is  near,  he'll  need  no  bread. 

This  ends  my  story  of  little  towhead, 

For  our  host  this  evening  was  little  Ted. 

And  our  hostess  the  lassie  that  he  wed; 

Sweeter  to  him  than  all  'lasses  for  bread. 


Lonesome 

My  health  is  good,  and  my  food  the  best; 
And  have  a  good  bed  on  which  to  rest. 
Nothing  to  fret  me  or  to  annoy; 
Have  a  host  of  friends  to  wish  me  joy. 

But  there's  discontent,  a  something  wrong — 
A  certain  longing  that  is  so  strong — 
Ginger  is  lost  in  all  sought  pleasure, 
The  pep  of  joy  lost  without  measure. 

If  I  take  a  book  and  try  to  read, 
All  words  look  alike,  they  do  indeed. 
There's  but  one  subject  that  I  can  find, 
On  which  'tis  easy  to  fix  my  mind. 

Why  am  I  lonely?    Can  you  not  guess? 
Think  you  know  why  Dear  so  I'll  confess. 
Some  one  I  know  is  now  far  away; 
That  is  the  reason  I  can't  feel  gay. 

There's  only  one  thing  that  I  can  do; 
And  that  is  to  think  Dear  heart  of  you. 
When  I  again  see  you  face  to  face, 
My  mind  shall  then  find  its  normal  place. 


A  Story 

Done  in  ten  minutes  winning  a  prize. 

You  ask  me  friends  to  spin  a  yarn, 
Now  that's  quite  easily  said; 

But  if  you  think  it's  not  a  job — 
Just  stand  here  in  my  stead. 

To  tell  you  something  you  don't  know 

I  surely  would  not  try; 
And  tell  a  story  you've  all  heard, 

Most  surely  would  be  dry. 

I  never  could  a  story  tell, 

That  is  not  in  my  line; 
Some  have  that  very  special  gift; 

But  never  was  it  mine. 

If  you'll  kindly  give  a  topic — 
'Twould  save  a  little  time; 

About  something  very  simple — 
I'll  try  to  make  a  rhyme. 

I  can  not  speak  of  the  weather — 
You'd  think  me  dull  indeed; 

And  why  speak  about  the  fashions — 
On  that  we're  all  agreed. 

I  can  think  of  one  new  story — 

I  hesitate  to  tell; 
For  the  joke  is  on  your  hostess — 

And  somewhat  of  a  sell. 


I  hardly  dare  to  tell  you  all — 
There  are  so  many  here, 

I'll  whisper  it  to  just  a  few; 
Who  are  to  me  most  dear. 

Now  that  I  have  you  all  guessing — 
Think  I  will  take  my  seat; 

For  I  have  talked  and  said  nothing, 
Since  being  on  my  feet. 


Read  when  presenting  piece  of  Cut  Glass 
to  Martha  L.  Zander 

Dear  lady  friends,  each  other  here  we  greet, 
For  a  social  hour  and  a  bite  to  eat. 
And  in  so  doing — in  sincere  candor — 
We  wish  to  honor  our  chairman  Zander. 

It  is  not  necessary  now  to  tell — 

All  of  her  good  traits  to  us  known  so  well; 

We've  proved  her  a  noble  patriot  too, 

In  all  things  lovely  we  stamp  her  "True  Blue." 

She  has  well  served  this  First  Methodist  band, 
We  thank  and  love  her,  and  give  the  "Glad  Hand. 
And  when  the  time  comes  as  it  surely  will — 
To  disband,  'tis  hoped  we'll  be  good  friends  still. 

Now  my  dear  we  can  not  let  this  hour  pass, 
Without  giving  you  a  small  piece  of  glass. 
'Tis  but  a  small  gift  from  this  Red  Cross  Band 
For  flowers  and  fruit  you  can  use  this  stand. 


The  Woman  Who  Would  Rule 
The  Universe 

There  is  nothing  done  just  right  or  things  as  they  should  be, 
Unless  bossed  by  the  female,  who  makes  you  wish  to  flee; 
Her  tongue  is  always  wagging,  and  ever  to  the  bad. 
Praise  to  no  one  is  given.     Nothing  to  do  but  gad — 
The  mother  with  her  babies  all  happy,  fat,  and  strong, 
Is  told  her  mode  of  dressing,  and  of  feeding  them  is  wrong — 
I'm  sure  the  little  youngsters  would  be  in  hands  far  worse, 
If  mothered  by  the  one  who  would  rule  the  universe. 

"Each  cow  has  her  corner,"  but  she  wants  the  entire  square. 
She  ridicules  and  watches,  in  a  way  that's  quite  unfair — 
There's  nothing  that  she  misses,  in  what  she  passes  by, 
She's  ever  on  the  watch  tower,  with  her  eagle  eye. 
If  a  man  talks  to  a  woman  other  than  his  wife, 
She  must  tell  him  quickly,  how  to  lead  a  better  life, 
She's  jealous,  and  deceitful,  and  other  things  far  worse; 
The  female  who  tries  to  rule  the  entire  universe. 

There's  not  a  judge  or  preacher  who  says  a  thing  just  right, 

Has  a  chip  upon  her  shoulder,  is  looking  for  a  fight, 

There  is  no  one  dressing  just  exactly  to  her  taste. 

They  are  either   much  too  large,   or  slender  at  the  waist. 

All  are  looking  very  old,  or  dressing  much  too  young. 

So  at  ev'ry  passer-by  a  hateful  word  is  flung. 

Some  day  we'll  hear  that  she's  gone,  to  better  or  to  worse, 

But  few  will  mourn  for  her,  who  would  rule  the  universe. 


Christmas  Party 

My  story  is  of  a  night  in  December, 

All  who  were  present  will  surely  remember; 

For  bunch  number  one  to  meet  bunch  number  two, 

Surely  the  Conaway's  knew  just  what  to  do. 

In  one  evening  of  joy,  and  hilarious  fun, 

One  would  never  Seymour  under  the  sun. 

'Twas  not  an  occasion  for  locking  of  hearts, 
But  more  in  the  nature  of  eating  of  tarts; 
For  Conaways'  always  have  good  things  to  eat 
Of  every  description — 'twould  be  hard  to  beat; 
For  Lottie's  a  cook,  and  can  ev'rything  make 
From  old  fashioned  doughnuts  to  fine  basket  cake. 

Two  nights  after  Christmas,  and  there  stood  a  tree 
In  a  corner,  pretty,  and  tall  as  could  be; 
Loaded  with  gifts  so  that  everyone  got 
Something  from  a  pin  to  a  valuable  Lott 
John  S.  Myers  got  such  a  list  of  stick  pins  strong, 
He  failed  to  audit,  because  being  too  long. 

Only  one  bad  thing  happened  that  night  'tis  said, 
The  Conaway  kids  had  to  be  sent  to  bed; 
They  had  eaten  too  much  and  so  came  to  harm, 
With  an  awful  colicky  pain  in  the  arm. 
Then  special  nurse  Minnie  went  to  their  relief 
With  a  bottle  of  glue,  and  saved  them  from  grief. 

The  fairest  one  present  that  night  I  will  state, 

Was  called  little  Edith,  that  much  I'll  relate; 

That  evening  one  whispered  with  voice  that  rang  true, 

My  dear  little  lady  I'd  Seymour  of  you. 

He  admires  her  much,  said  lady  Luella, 

I  think  him  to  be  a  very  nice  feller. 


Then  there  was  fine  music  that  went  with  a  go, 
Led  by  a  master — Joe  Anderson  "Our  Joe." 
And  Doctor  Wilson,  he  of  the  charming  smile, 
Told  several  stories  in  his  matchless  style. 
Lottie,  Minnie  and  Jessie,  good  singers  too, 
Each  had  a  stunt,  all  had  something  to  do. 

'Twas  agreed  the  bunches  were  very  well  met. 
Hard  to  get  gayer  ones  together  you  bet; 
But  soon  it  grew  late,  for  the  time  went  so  fast, 
Like  all  great  pleasures  that  can't  always  last. 
All  were  of  one  mind  when  at  parting  they  said: 
We'll  remember  this  always,  till  we  are  quite  dead. 


Composed  for  Membership  Social,  1912 

When  first  I  joined  this  church,  was  but  twelve  years  of  age, 

What  the  year  I  need  not  tell; 
For  Doctor  Locke  says  that  our  looks  should  be  the  gauge, 

If  you  guess  wrong  all  is  well. 

It  was  the  year  eighteen  hundred  and  ninety-six, 

I  joined  again  by  letter. 
And  in  all  of  the  church  societies  did  mix; 

My  Christian  life  to  better. 

There  is  no  other  in  this  church  with  name  like  mine, 

So  I  am  no  duplicate. 
I  shall  try  henceforth  to  let  my  little  light  shine, 

And  from  all  wrong  separate. 

They  certainly  assumed  a  Lott  when  they  took  me, 

To  them  I  am  a  debtor, 
For  very  little  service  I  ever  could  be, 

Since  I  put  in  my  letter. 


A  Dream  Quilt 

Composed  for  "Talent  Social" 

One  day  I  dreamed  a  dream  most  wonderful, 
Of  handling  such  elegant  things; 

Pieces  of  all  colors  so  beautiful 
Like  those  in  the  butterfly  wings. 

There  was  California's  poppy  yellow, 
Mingled  with   Ireland's  shamrock  green; 

Then  the  shades  of  the  orchard  and  meadow, 
With  the  blue  of  the  sky  was  seen. 

There  was  much  of  the  soft  grey  of  a  dove, 

With  brilliant  poinsettia  red. 
And  I  saw  much  of  the  pink  that  I  love, 

Nestling  in  a  white  muslin  bed. 

I  cut  into  one  piece,  then  another, 

With  scissors  my  hands  worked  so   fast; 

Matching  different  colors  together, 
Enjoying  the  work  to  the  last. 

Then  when  I  had  cut  thousands  of  pieces, 
And  colors  matched  ready  to  sew; 

Had  to  iron  all  the  wrinkles  and  creases, 
For  the  work  must  be  smooth  you  know. 

Then  when  the  pieces  together  were  sewn, 
Of  such  wondrous  colors  galore; 

It  was  the  prettiest  thing  ever  shown, 
A  dream  for  the  eye  evermore. 


Have  kept  you  in  suspense  quite  long  enough, 
It  was  a  quilt  those  pieces  made. 

While  its  wondrous  beauty  could  be  a  bluff, 
Not  so  with  the  price  that  was  paid. 

I'll  admit  the  quilt  was  a  bit  crazy, 
But  I'm  sure  the  price  is  all  right; 

While  the  dream  quilt  story  is  quite  hazy, 
This  ten  dollar  bill  is  in  sight. 


His  Promise 

"Fear  not,  I  am  with  thee." 
Precious  promise   given, 

Like  a  star  of  glory  ever, 

Lighting  my  way  to  heaven. 

Steps  unseen  before  me, 
Dangers  all  unknown, 

Still  His  promise  not  to  leave  me, 
He'll  never  leave  me  alone. 

Roses  fade  all  around  me, 
Everything   seems   drear, 

Precious  still  the  hope  within  me, 
Whispering,  be  of  cheer. 

Joy  like  birds  of  springtime, 
To  my  heart  has  flown, 

Singing  always,  Oh!   so  sweetly, 
He  will  not  leave  me  alone. 


'Tis  the  troublesome  things  of  life,  that  cause  us  to  ap 
preciate  the  joys  and  pleasures  when  gotten. 


Composed  for  Experience  Social — 1921 

Just  how  to  make  money  in  an  honest  way, 
For  this  Experience  Social  I'll  say — 
A  long  time  I  studied,  and  worked  my  brain, 
To  think  of  a  good  plan,  but  all  in  vain. 

If  I  did  housekeeping  there  would  be  a  chance, 

Or  if  married,  you  can  see  at  a  glance, 

There  would  be  millions  of  chances  to  make  some  "dough' 

In  unique  ways  as  you  very  well  know. 

Could  think  of  only  one  way  that  would  be  nice, 
And  that  would  be  by  a  real  sacrifice. 
Stop  eating  ice  cream;  candy  of  every  kind, 
To  do  that  requires  a  very  strong  mind. 

Ev'ry  time  I  thought  of  ice  cream  to  partake, 
I  must  remember  the  denial  to  make. 
And  at  once  put  by,  the  amount  I  had  saved, 
A  great  sacrifice,  when  ice  cream  I  craved. 

There's  a  frown  on  my  brow,  a  tear  in  my  voice, 
When  I  think  of  chances  to  make  a  choice 
Of  an  ice  cream  soda,  or  orange  frappe; 
Just  a  malted  milk  was  all  I  could  say. 

Why  is  it  the  thing  we  need  let  alone 
Is  the  thing  we  most  wish  for  or  bemoan? 
Because  I  had  said  I  would  not  eat  candy, 
'Twas  always  put  before  me  so  handy. 

'Tis  four  months  I've  been  in  this  awful  despair, 
To  make  the  money  for  this  nights'  affair. 
There  were  times  when  tempted,  I  almost  did  scream, 
When  offered  a  big  fat  chocolate  cream. 


I've  been  laughed  at  and  called  a  big  sillyhead, 
Because  I  did  ask  for  money  instead 
Of  candy,  when  very  best  friends  wished  to  buy, 
Made  me  feel  quite  foolish  enough  to  cry. 

I  knew  this  trying  ordeal  wouldn't  always  last; 
That  some  day  I  would  not  have  to  run  fast, 
To  get  past  a  candy  store,  or  sweet  shop 
With  ungraceful  bounds,   for  fear  I  would  stop. 

This  ends  my  sad  story,  on  this  April  day; 
How  I  saved  some  money  with  which  to  pay 
Ten  dollars  for  Experience  Social  Fund; 
And  please  my  friend  Madame  S.  P.  Mulford. 


To  all  our  friends,  both  far  and  near, 
This  message  we  are  sending, 
Believing  you'll  be  pleased  to  help 
The  greatest  cause  and  blessing. 

To  make  money  for  RED  CROSS  work 
We'll  have  a  bazaar  in  May; 
Hope  you  can  send  something  for  us 
To  sell  on  that  special  day. 

We  thank  you  all  who  can  assist, 
And  we'll  add  this  promise  too, 
That  when  you  need  this  kind  of  help — 
We  will  send  some  things  to  you. 


Nothing  But  Lies 

Composed  for  "Experience  Social"— 1920. 

In  ways  that  were  mean  and  tricks  that  were  vain, 

A  little  money  I  managed  to  gain. 

You'll  agree  with  me  when  my  story's  told, 
My  way  was  not  common,  but  somewhat  bold. 

It  was  similar  to  a  bunco  game, 

And  winning  that  way  I  should  feel  some  shame. 
I  did  not  flim  flam  the  same  crowd  more  than  once, 
For  not  one  of  them  could  be  called  a  dunce. 

The  first  money  for  this  affair  I  made, 
During  a  dinner  party — four  plates  laid. 

Three  dollars  were  promised  if  I  could  float, 

Money  on  water,  so  I  built  a  boat, 
Of  toothpicks,  on  these  the  money  was  laid; 
They  saw  and  believed,  and  the  money  paid. 

Secondly,  a  crowd  promised  me  a  dime, 

For  every  berry  picked  in  winter  time. 

Not  more  than  a  mile  from  my  home  away, 
Giving  for  wager  in  time  but  a  day. 

On  a  large  thorny  bush  not  hard  to  find, 

I  stuck  preserved  berries  all  of  a  kind. 
There  were  fifty  blackberries  stuck  on  tight, 
That  netted  five  dollars,  now  that's  all  right. 

My  third  experience  will  be  very  brief, 

I  visited  a  farm  and  came  to  grief. 


My  brother  it  is  who  owns  a  goat  farm, 
Said  he'd  give  me  two  dollars  and  no  harm 

Would  come  to  me,  if  I  would  only  try, 

To  milk  his  pet  Nanny  Goat,  I  came  nigh 
Losing  my  temper,   and   making  a  scene, 
For  an  up  to  date  movie  picture  machine. 

That  goat  took  advantage,  humiliated  me; 

'Twas  no  compensation,  that  two  dollar  fee. 

Now,  I  shall  try  to  tell  you  how  money  grows, 
That  money  makes  money  everyone  knows. 
How,  if  penny  seeds  are  properly  sown, 
Nickels  are  sprouted  is  very  well  known. 
Then  soon  the  nickel  buds  turn  into  dimes, 
If  nourished  with  joy,  and  kept  where  sun  shines; 
Must  sometimes  be  moistened  by  sorrow's  tears 
To  keep  them  from  drying  up  through  the  years. 

All  pleasure  will  not  let  money  plant  bloom, 

It  must  be  tempered  by  sadness  and  gloom. 
Ten  pennies  I  planted,  did  very  well, 
They  thrived  and  flourished,  so  now  I  can  tell. 

The  penny  seeds  to  dollar  blossoms  grew; 

That  added  Ten  Dollars — I'll  give  that  too. 
The  wild  fancies  of  my  mind  will  help  fill 
Ladies'  Aid  fund,  with  twenty  dollar  bill. 


First  recitation  of  Esperance  Lott,  1894 

Faithful  boys  make  faithful  men; 
In  all  things  do  your  best,  and  then 
You'll  have  a  name  when  you  grow  old, 
Worth  more  to  you  than  shining  gold. 


Composed  for  reception  to  Dr.  Elmer 
E.  Helms,  1920 

Dr.  Helms,  we  sincerely,  happily  greet  you, 

And  promise  our  hearty  support, 
Confident  that  as  our  pastor  and  leader,  too, 

There  will  be  a  splendid  report. 

I  can  anticipate  one  thought  you  would  express — 

That  it  is  with  trepidation — 
And  a  little  anxiety  you  will  confess, 

That  you  face  our  congregation. 

It  is  true  great  men  have  been  shepherds  of  this  flock; 

Cantine  and  the  great  Mclntyre, 
Together  with  loving,  big  hearted  Bishop  Locke, 

As  grandly  Helms,  will  now  aspire. 

One  thing  I  can  tell  you,  for  which  you'll  be  grateful, 

You'll  not  have  to  "face  the  music" — 
The  choir  you'll  soon  learn,  are  good  backers  and  helpful, 

And  assist  as  if  by  magic. 

As  Captain  of  this  twenty-seven  hundred  band, 

(For  Helms  all  ships  aright  do  steer — ) 
We'll  be  your  faithful  sailors  to  uphold  your  hand; 

And  with  confidence,  have  no  fear. 

Assured  that  as  the  ship  sails  on  its  forward  way 

It  will  escape  the  wicked  shoal — 
Anchored  with  safety,  well  moored  into  the  bay, 

Having,  with  honors  won  the  goal. 


Composed  for  reception  to  Dr.  Elmer 
E.  Helms,  1920 

Dr.  Helms,  we  sincerely,  happily  greet  you, 

And  promise  our  hearty  support, 
Confident  that  as  our  pastor  and  leader,  too, 

There  will  be  a  splendid  report. 

I  can  anticipate  one  thought  you  would  express — 

That  it  is  with  trepidation — 
And  a  little  anxiety  you  will  confess, 

That  you  face  our  congregation. 

It  is  true  great  men  have  been  shepherds  of  this  flock; 

Cantine  and  the  great  Mclntyre, 
Together  with  loving,  big  hearted  Bishop  Locke, 

As  grandly  Helms,  will  now  aspire. 

One  thing  I  can  tell  you,  for  which  you'll  be  grateful, 

You'll  not  have  to  "face  the  music" — 
The  choir  you'll  soon  learn,  are  good  backers  and  helpful, 

And  assist  as  if  by  magic. 

As  Captain  of  this  twenty-seven  hundred  band, 

(For  Helms  all  ships  aright  do  steer — ) 
We'll  be  your  faithful  sailors  to  uphold  your  hand; 

And  with  confidence,  have  no  fear. 

Assured  that  as  the  ship  sails  on  its  forward  way 

It  will  escape  the  wicked  shoal — 
Anchored  with  safety,  well  moored  into  the  bay, 

Having,  with  honors  won  the  goal. 


While  you  serve  as  Captain  of  this  Methodist  crew, 
Your  good  wife  is  chosen  first  mate. 

I'm  sure  the  crew  will  always  be  faithful  to  you, 
And  never  your  orders  forsake. 

AX  hile  we  are  extending  our  hands  for  your  greeting, 

(For  the  wife  as  well  as  for  you — ) 
We  intend  to  commence  today  with  this  meeting 

To  pledge  you  our  loyalty,  true! 


Composed  while  at  Burleson  Sanitarium 

Grand  Rapids  has  a  Sanitarium — 
Where  the  Burleson  Doctors  lure; 
They  will  guarantee  a  cure, 
Of  your  trouble  I  am  sure — 

If  'tis  part  of  your  body  called  rectum. 

On  East  Fulton  street  the  Burleson  you'll  find, 

Number  one,  four,  eight,  is  the 

Place,  as  cosy  as  can  be, 

If  you  doubt  me  go  and  see, 
And  you'll  find  all  attendants  good  and  kind. 

The  food  is  of  the  highest  quality; 

What  to  eat  they  do  not  say; 

All  the  people  there  are  gay — 

For  they  eat  three  times  a  day, 
And  not  limited  as  to  quantity. 

You  will  feel  but  little  pain,  I  can  say — 

For  I've  tried  it,  so  'tis  true; 

If  that  trouble,  troubles  you — 

You  can  get  relief  there  too; 
Do  not  wait,  start  for  Burleson's  right  away. 


Written  to  George  Lott  (Very  Stout)  while  he 
was  in  Palo  Verde  Valley.    Summer  1906. 

'Tis  a  wonderful  thing  to  be  glad. 
Glad  rain  is  over,  though  'tis  a  bit  warm, 
Glad  Summer  is  here,  though  many  flies  swarm. 
While  there  are  rattle-snakes,  none  bite  you. 
Glad  there  is  soda  for  "skeeter"  bites  too, 

'Tis  a  terrible  thing  to  be  sad. 

'Tis  a  wonderful  thing  to  be  glad. 
Glad  there's  no  butter,  for  it  would  not  keep, 
Though  bed  is  hard,  a  quiet  place  to  sleep, 
Glad  there  is  a  boat,  if  caught  in  a  flood, 
Glad  there  is  no  fruit,  to  poison  your  blood, 

'Tis  a  terrible  thing  to  be  sad. 

'Tis  a  wonderful  thing  to  be  glad. 
There's  plenty  to  eat,  though  it's  somewhat  coarse, 
Plenty  of  water,  that  could  be  much  worse, 
Glad  you  are  not  fat, when  in  Summer  heat, 
Glad  you  are  alive,  and  have  both  your  feet, 

'Tis  a  terrible  thing  to  be  sad. 


Regarding  birth  we  had  no  voice, 
Nor  can  we  know  the  day, 
The  manner,  cause  or  way, 

How  we  die  cannot  be  our  choice. 

'Tis  Providential  that  it  is  so; 

For  we  would  fret  and  cry, 

If  we  knew  we  must  die 
In  place,  time,  and  way  we  shall  go. 


Composed  for  Dollar  Social  in  1895 

One  eve  in  the  month  of  May — 

When  the  moon  was  shining  bright, 

Mr.  Lott  and  I  were  sitting, 

In  our  room  without  a  light. 

And  not  knowing  what  to  say — 

Looking  out  into  the  night — 

I  whistled  a  merry  tune; 

Then  when  I  had  finished  quite, 

I  said  how  much  is  that  worth? 

When  Mr.  Lott  just  then  outright — 

Threw  in  my  lap  one  dollar; 

Very  much  to  my  delight. 

I  will  proffer  an  advice, 

Before  ending  this  epistle, 

When  the  times  are  very  "hard," 

Don't  mind  how  troubles  bristle; 

Hold  your  own  and  just  stand  firm 

But  go  ahead  and  whistle. 

Never  mind  how  troubles  come, 

Take  a  rose  or  take  a  thistle; 

Never  stop  to  mourn  your  woes, 

But  go  ahead  and  whistle. 

A  Toast 

Man  was  made  first,  and  woman  soon  after, 
She's  been  after  him  ever  since  then; 
None  of  them  perfect,  they  all  have  some  fault, 
But  we  do  not  want  angels  but  men. 

Some  of  them  are  wise,  and  some  otherwise, 
But  we  love  them  because  they  are  men; 
May  our  best  wishes  attend  all  of  them, 
We  will  drink  to  their  welfare — the  men. 


Composed  for  last  luncheon  of  Red  Cross 
Workers  at  First  M.  E.  Church 

April  twenty-fourth  nineteen  nineteen, 

Again  we  meet  here  together, 
As  co-workers,  for  a  social  hour; 

Before  we  disband  forever. 

For  we  wish  to  honor,  thank  and  praise, 
The  ones  who  have  done  most  to  make 

This  company  of  workers  helpful — 
In  all  things  that  we  undertake. 

You  have  been  patient  and  diligent, 
Doing  as  good  soldiers  should  do; 

All  done  for  the  love  in  the  doing — 
For  the  cause  that  is  dear  to  you. 

Praise  is  dear  to  all  normal  creatures — 
All  can  swallow  without  much  feeling 

Much  of  that  intoxicating  sweet — 
Without  the  danger  of  reeling. 

To  all  it  is  most  gratifying — 

Now  and  then  to  get  little  praise. 
For  work  well  done,  or  duty  performed; 

And  helps  to  make  pleasant  our  days. 

We  should  not  wait  till  our   friends  are  deaf— 

Have  we  a  compliment  to  pay, 
And  lost  sense  of  smell,  and  stone  blind, 

If  wishing  to  give  a  bouquet. 


When  we  pass  on  and  our  value  told, 
'Twill  be  worth  just  this  hear  we  say! 

Not  one  cent  less,  or  one  penny  more — 
Than  what  we  have  given  away. 

When  we  shall  go  to  the  great  beyond 
And  the  song  of  our  life  is  sung, 

We'll  be  remembered  by  just  one  thing — 
And  that  will  be  what  we  have  done. 


Friends 

If  you  have  friends  you  can  trust, 
Some  that  you've  proved  true — 

Why  hesitate  to  tell  them 
Their  value  to  you. 

You  can  live  without  money, 
On  which  much  depends; 

But  life's  not  worth  the  living, 
If  you  have  no  friends. 

Fiiends  like  love  you  cannot  buy; 

They're  priceless  to  you. 
Cherish  and  keep  them  always, 

You're  rich  if  you  do. 


May  the  years  that  are  before  you, 
Outnumber  the  ones  past, 

Wishing  that  each  successive  year 
Be  better  than  the  last. 


Greeting  To  Our  Pastor  in  1912 

Dear  pastor,  am  voicing  the  sentiments  of  all, 
When  I  say  we're  rejoicing  at  your  return  call. 
Not  only  of  members,  but  friends  too  I  can  say — 
Are  rejoicing  with  us  because  you  will  stay. 

We  are  proud  of  this  church,  sir,  but  prouder  of  you, 
We  not  only  admire  you,  but  love  you  we  do. 
You're  the  choice,  sir,  of  many,  the  pick  of  the  land, 
And  make  a  good  shepherd  for  this  Christian  band. 

You  preach  here  the  gospel  with  no  uncertain  sound, 
And  point  out  the  wrong  to  us  where'er  it  is  found, 
We  are  sure  greater  blessings  this  year  will  attend, 
And  shall  strive  all  our  efforts  in  that  line  to  bend. 

No  use  giving  church  history,  you  know  all  that. 
We  wish  simply  to  state  that  we're  glad  you  came  back. 
Doctor  Locke  we  greet  you  in  good  simple  fashion. 
With  hands  of  welcome,  and  hearts  tender  passion. 


Sent  with  check  for  wedding  gift 

Accept  this  check  dear  lady  fair, 
With  which  to  buy  a  dish  or  chair. 
I  much  prefer  that  you  should  buy 
A  gift  with  this;  I'll  tell  you  why. 
Among  the  tokens  you'll  receive 
Many  duplicates  I  believe. 
Now  from  that  crime  I  would  be  free, 
So  choose  for  self,  and  so  please  me. 
May  all  best  joys  attend  your  life, 
And  make  of  you  a  happy  wife. 


Be  Kind 

Have  you  thought  how  well  to  spend  today? 
By  helping  some  one  in  some  way? 
That  when  tomorrow  shall  pass  this  way 
You'll  think  of  happy  yesterday? 

Today  can  you  not  some  kind  thing  do? 
To  one  not  fortunate  as  you? 
There's  never  a  day,  which  you  pass  through 
In  which  some  good,  you  can  not  do. 

The  pleasant  smile,  and  the  helping  hand, 
Make   doubting   minds   to  understand. 
To  do  for  others  is  something  grand 
We  should  not  wait  for  a  command. 

'Tis  the  doing  something  that  is  kind, 
That  gives  one  true  content  you'll  find; 
For  the  happy  consciousness  of  mind 
Is  satisfied,  by  being  kind. 

Strive  to  live  each  day  that  some  soul,  sad 
Sick  or  weary,  will  be  made  glad. 
Without  kindness  this  world  would  go  mad, 
Better  it,  by  the  life  that  you've  had. 

Do  be  kind  brother  and  sister  mine, 
And  help  the  sun  to  brighter  shine 
On  some  sad  soul,  to  make  friend  of  thine, 
Make  of  your  life  a  heavenly  sign. 

Some  weary  traveler  you  can  make 
His  burden  lighter,  if  you  take 
A  share  to  carry,  for  His  name's  sake, 
'Twill  bring  you  nearer  heaven's  gate. 


The  value  of  good  you  cannot  know 
By  being  kind,  to  friend  or  foe. 
Make  fires  burn  brighter,  and  embers  glow 
To  warm  a  soul,  who  needs  it  so. 

Don't  wait,   today  do  the  kindly  thing, 
Who  knows  what  tomorrow  will  bring? 
'Tis  today  we  happily  should  sing, 
Songs  of  gladness  with  joyous  Spring. 

'Tis  more  of  kindness  this  old  world  needs, 
More  of  mercy,  and  heartfelt  deeds. 
Just  living  each  day,  where  sunshine  leads 
To  speed  the  growth,  of  well  sown  seeds. 

Each  day  cast  smiles  of  gladness  somewhere, 
They  are  garlands  of  joy,  so  rare 
To  saddened  hearts,  or  those  in  despair, 
'Twill  gladden  them,  that  you  do  care. 


should  strive  to  live  all  our  todays 
By  being  kind,  to  go  our  ways, 
That  when  sun  casts  her  tomorrow's  rays 
Reflect  n>e//  done,  for  yesterdays. 


What  To  Eat — Monologue 

Here  are  radishes,  and  olives  too, 

Some  celery,  and  raw  onions,  Phew! 

If  I  did  eat  this  mock  turtle  soup, 

I'd  soon  not  be  worth  a  single  "whoop." 

There's  halibut  steak,   and  salmon  trout, 

Too  rich — that's  sure  to  give  me  the  gout. 


Oh!   grilled  lobster,  the  smell  is  enough! 
Nearly  died  on  that  once,  and  cream  puff. 
I  could  eat  oysters  on  the  half  shell, 
But  I  don't  like  them  so  very  well. 
*You  say  why  not  have  some  oysters  fried? 
I  tried  them  once  and  I  nearly  died. 

Go  wait  on  some  of  those  other  folks,* 
Let  me  see  about  these  artichokes. 
'Tis  a  problem  to  know  what  to  eat, 
Here  is  sour-kraut  and  pickled  pigs  feet, 
Ev'ry  bill  has  baked  beans  and  brown  bread, 
Guess  I'll  have  to  read  that  till  I'm  dead. 

I  might  try  this — chicken  a  le  creme, 

But  'twould  fill  my  gall  bladder  again, 

Dare  I  eat  this  Mulligan  stew? 

I'd  sure  be  an  angel  if  I  do. 

Corned  beef  and  cabbage,  stuffed  tomatoes, 

Horrors!     I'd  surely  "turn  up  my  toes." 

I  dare  not  call  for  veal  fricasse, 
'Twould  cause  the  death  of  me  right  away, 
I  hope  that  waiter  won't  come  back  soon, 
Here's  a  small  fillet  with  sauce  mushroom. 
Land  sakes!  a  dollar  for  just  a  bite! 
To  ask  such  a  price  is  wrong  alright. 

Belgian  hare  a  le  Maryland, 

With  fresh  green  peas — I  bet  they  are  canned. 

Nice  thick  steak,  would  taste  good  I  declare, 

But  it  causes  terrible  nightmare. 

There's  liver  and  onions,  that  is  worse, 

I'd  be  ready  to  ride  in  a  hearse. 


Such  horrid   indigestible   food, 

To  read  this  puts  me  in  awful  mood. 

*You  ask  would  I  like  a  ham  sandwich? 

Then  the  sexton  would  need  dig  a  ditch. 

You  go  again  for  a  little  bit,* 

He'll  not  get  out  of  me  any  "tip." 

I  like  it  but  dare  not  eat  pork  roast. 

If  I  did,  I'd  die  dead  as  a  post. 

Roast  beef  and  gravy  just  makes  me  sick, 

For  the  gravy  is  always  too  thick. 

There  are  eggs  fixed  in  every  way, 

Boiled,  fried,  scrambled  and  poached  for  today. 

Potatoes  boiled,  baked,  some  fried  in  fat, 
Can't  eat  starchy  food,  that  settles  that. 
There's  wax,  green  and  lima  beans,  all  three, 
Causes  gastritis,  won't  do  for  me. 
Now  here's  something  that  looks  good  to  me, 
But  makes  me  bilious  as  I  can  be. 

'Tis  chocolate  cake  with  it  ice  cream, 
And  strawberry  shortcake,   that's   a  dream. 
I  would  like  a  pineapple  sundae, 
French   pastry,   and  vanilla   frappe. 
But  I  do  wish  to  live  a  while  yet, 
And  that  stuff  does  my  stomach  upset. 

Now  here  comes  that  waiter  again  to  me, 
And  not  one  thing  to  eat  do  I  see. 
*You  ask  would  I  like  something  to  drink? 
Just  wait  a  moment  and  let  me  think. 
What?     Would  I  have  a  cup  of  coffee? 
With  my  bad  heart?     'Twould  nail  my  coffin. 


Postum?     I  know  too  much  about  that. 
And  milk  inclines  to  make  one  too  fat. 
Nothing  I  want  but  bread  and  butter, 
And  please  bring  me  a  glass  of  water.* 
Thought  I  was  hungry  when  I  came  in, 
But  I  know,  to  eat  too  much  is  a  sin. 

^Talking  to  imaginary  waiter. 


Song — Tune,  Beneath  Thy  Window 

Our  greeting  Doctor,  to  the  wife  as  well  as  you, 

From  this  society  of  Ladies'  Aiders  true. 

You  can  depend  on  us,  if  there  is  work  to  do, 

We  are  the  First  Church  workers,  and  make  money  too. 

CHORUS: 

We're  happy  to  meet  you,  and  pleased  to  greet  you, 

We'll  ever  be  loyal,  to  wife  and  you  too. 

So  trust  us,  we'll  prove  to  you, 

To  be  great  helpers,  in  what  we  do. 

We  are  expecting  very  much  of  you  here, 
The  work  is  very  hard,  but  you've  no  need  to  fear, 
For  all  stand  ready,  to  give  help  and  give  cheer, 
In  doing  Christ's  great  work,  while  He  is  ever  near. 


Song — Tune,  Christmas  Joys. 

Christmas  Eve 

Christmas  eve,  bright  lights  are  shining, 
Alike  in  rich  homes  and  poor, 
Wreaths  of  holly  are  entwining 
Hearts  in  sorrow  and  in  joy, 
And  the  merry  voices  singing 
Hallelujah  to  His  name. 

CHORUS: 

Christmas  bells  are  loudly  ringing, 
Peace  to  all,  peace  to  all; 
Every  peal  is  gladly  telling 
Christmas  joys,  Christmas  joys. 

Each  and  every  one  make  merry. 
As  the  happy  hours  roll  by — 
For  we  never  could  grow  weary, 
Thinking  of  the  morrow's  dawn; 
For  it  tells  to  all  the  story, 
Death  to  none,  and  life  for  all. 


Song — Tune  of  Aloha  Oe. 

Consolation 

When  the  clouds  of  sorrow  hover  o'er  you, 
And  the  heart  is  filled  with  grief  and  care, 
When  the  eyes  are  filled  with  heavy  tear  drops, 
And  the  burdens  seem  too  hard  for  you  to  bear. 

CHORUS: 

Then  look  about,  you'll  find  a  score, 
Who  are  in  greater  trouble  than  are  you ; 
Just  lend  a  hand,  and  help  some  one, 
'Twill  drown  your  troubles  if  you  do. 

When  you  long  for  kind  and  friendly  faces, 
Of  dear  ones  who  have  passed  away, 
Do  not  mourn  and  grieve  for  ones  departed, 
For  you  know  you  shall  meet  again  some  day. 

If  you  would  be  always  gay  and  happy, 
Let  your  life  be  ever  good  and  true; 
Just  keep  busy  helping  some  one  some  way, 
That  will  keep  you  contented,  happy  too. 


The  Organ  Grinder 

Song— Tune,  Beneath  Thy  Window. 
Composed  for  "Kitchen  Band/' 

My  home  ees  far  away,  in  olda  Napolee, 
I  lova  my  native  Ian,  in  far  oof  Eetaly. 
I  no  kan  talka  mooch,  in  dees  Emerican, 
My  Ian  eet  ees  da  besta,   I  lova  Etalian. 

CHORUS: 

I  grinda  da  organ,  I  grinda  al  day, 
Da  monk  he  helpa  me,  he  tacka  da  pay. 
He  danca,  I  laffa  so  gay 
We  macka  da  mon,  we  levva  dees  way. 

Ma  brudda  Nickoli,  he  kap  penutty  stan, 
He  sa  for  me  to  kom,  to  dees  Emerica  Ian; 
I  macka  big  meestak,  to  sclla  da  banan, 
I  macka  da  mosta  mon,  to  grinda  da  organ. 


SONG 
Happy  and  Gay 

IST  VERSE 

Some  bright  happy  thoughts  come  o'er  me  tonight, 

I'm  thinking  of  loved  ones  and  home; 

Of  a  cottage  that's  painted  all  in  pure  white, 

And  a  dear  loving  wife  that's  within. 

Of  a  dear  little  cherub  whose  prattle 

Is  heard  in  those  walls  all  the  day  long; 

Oh!  how  can  some  say  that  life  is  a  battle? 

When  to  me  it's  a  beautiful  song. 

2ND  VERSE 

I  labor  and  toil,  but  it  is  all  gay, 

It  makes  one  so  hearty  and  well; 

And  when  day  is  o'er,  Oh!  then  I  can  say, 

That  labor  has  not  been   for  naught. 

For  there  is  my  true  one  to  greet  me, 

With  a  sweet  loving  smile  at  the  door; 

And  the  dear  little  one,  that's  as  sweet  as  can  be, 

Has  a  kiss  for  her  papa  once  more. 

CHORUS 

Glad  and  gay,  I'm  happy  you  see, 
Each  day  of  my  life  I  am  jolly, 
Old  worry  and  fret  have  never  found  me, 
To  let  them  I  think  would  be  folly. 


Song— Tune,  Marching  Through  Georgia 

Composed  for  "Kitchen  Band." 

We're  members  of  the  "Ladies'  Aid," 

Out  on  a  Tuesday  night, 

A  bunch  of  full-grown  children, 

With  what  you  call  "stage  fright." 

But  we're  trying  hard  to  make  some  "dough," 

You'll  surely  say  that's  right, 

And  "boost"  First  M.  E.   forever! 

CHORUS: 

Hurrah!   Hurrah!  We're  happy  as  can  be. 

To  build   a  church  and  dedicate  it   free! 

So  we  are  pleased  to  do  our  share, 

And  help  the  burden  bear 

By  working   and   "boosting"    forever! 

Don't  you  think  we're  trim  and  neat, 
In  gowns  and  caps  of  white? 
Wearing  our  blue  aprons, 
We  think  we  look  quite  right, 
Now,  if  you  like  this  little  song, 
Applaud  with  all  your  might, 
And  we  will  sing  on  forever! 

Now,  that  we're  called  back  again, 

We  don't  know  what  to  do, 

We've  had  our  say  and  done  our  "stunt," 

And  thought  that  we  were  through, 

But  if  you  like  this  song  so  well, 

Why!  we'll  begin  anew, 

And  keep  on  singing  forever. 


4553 


U.C.BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


451297 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


